So I Bloom by Isabella Alvarado

To my mom,
for helping me bloom.

The Oak and the Rose

by Shel Silverstein

An oak tree and a rosebush grew,
Young and green together,
Talking the talk of growing things-
Wind and water and weather.
And while the rosebush sweetly bloomed
The oak tree grew so high
That now it spoke of newer things-
Eagles, mountain peaks and sky.
'I guess you think you're pretty great,'
The rose was heard to cry,
Screaming as loud as it possibly could
To the treetop in the sky.
'And now you have no time for flower talk,
Now that you've grown so tall.'
'It's not so much that I've grown,' said the tree,
'It's just that you've stayed so small.'

My Gardener

by Rupi Kaur

this is the recipe of life
said my mother
as she held me in her arms as I wept
think of those flowers you plant
in the garden each year
they will teach you
that people too must wilt
fall
root
rise
in order to bloom

Before I…

by Insiya K. Patanwala

Before I became strong, I knew what it was like
To be weak,
How difficult it is to love yourself,
To find the wholeness that you seek.

Before I knew the light,
I have had my fair share of darkness, too,
Where my world fell into a hopelessness
And I didn’t know how to get through.

For I have known the tears it takes,
The courage to stand up again,
When you are broken down and bruised
And you know nothing but the pain.

You forget to appreciate love,
If you haven’t seen the hate,
Till you forget the meaning of smile and laughter,
And your heart is left abate.

I have known the strength and courage
It requires to get it right,
To face the things that hold you down
And hold your head up and fight.

Before I was who I am now,
I was someone I didn’t want to be.
I was lost, battered, and defeated,
Before I knew how to be me!

“<”

by Isabella Alvarado

In the mind of a child,
There is little understanding of the world
Of the way it works,
The way the people in it function

There is such a beautiful innocence
Such love for ourselves
For others
For the very world itself

It is not until much later that the questions begin
Why don’t I look like her?
Why aren’t I as smart as him?
Why aren’t I as beautiful?

At that same time,
We learn basic math at school
We learn the symbol “<”
Less than

And then it clicks,
I am not like them for a reason
All because I am
Less than

I have spent almost 18 years of my life
Believing myself to be
Less than others,
Exhausting myself comparing

Until one day, on a random Saturday afternoon,
Everything else I learned finally clicked
The symbol “=”
Equal to

I am equal to everyone else

We are different, yes
But our differences do not make anyone
Better or less

Our differences make us unique
Proof of our own growth
But they never make us inferior
They simply make us equals

Still I Rise

by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Life

by Charlotte Bronte

Life, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall?
Rapidly, merrily,
Life's sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily
Enjoy them as they fly!
What though Death at times steps in,
And calls our Best away?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O'er hope, a heavy sway?
Yet Hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair!

Something I never realized as a child, but that I now know, is that everybody grows at their own
pace. For the majority of my life, I struggled deeply with insecurities. Everything I did, every move I
made, made me feel less than. I would look at others and wonder, “Why aren’t I like that?”. I would
question myself constantly, putting myself down for being different from others. Everything about me felt
so wrong when compared to what everyone else had. As Insiya K. Patanwala says in her poem Before I,
“Before I became strong, I knew what it was like to be weak, How difficult it is to love yourself, to find
the wholeness that you seek”. I struggled to love every part of myself when it was placed next to others
who were, in my blurred eyes and mind, better than I was. Just like Insiya wrote, I was weak, in a way,
and I was struggling to fit the pieces of myself together. In her poem “<”, Isabella Alvarado expresses her
feelings as a child, and she says: “And then it clicks, I am not like them for a reason…
All because I am less than”. More than just physical aspects, it was also hard for me to accept that other
people were better at certain things than I was. In my mind, it was a constant battle of comparison and
analysis, which always ended up with me on the losing side, as I was less than others. As Isabella
Alvarado says, I wondered, “Why don’t I look like her? Why aren’t I as smart as him? Why aren’t I as
beautiful?”. Here, she demonstrates a stream of questions towards herself and towards the world,
wondering why she is not like others, similar to how I felt towards myself. The more I saw from others,
and the more mistakes I made, the more I felt like a failure and like I just simply wasn’t as good enough
as others.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized the truth. It was never about being better or less; it was
just about being different. I had never truly looked at myself as an individual before, and the day I did was
the day that changed everything. In his poem The Oak and the Rose, Shel Silverstein makes an eye
opening allusion to people and their changes as individuals through the use of nature. At one point, the
oak tree in the poem says to the rose: “'It's not so much that I've grown,' said the tree,
'It's just that you've stayed so small.'”. When the rose is comparing herself to the tree, she seems small
because of how large the oak tree is. However, when she is seen as an individual, it is evident that though
she has not grown to the tree’s size, she has still grown to her own capacity and limit. Looking at myself
in this same way truly changed my life. I realized it was never about being like others, or being as good as
others; it was about growing at my own pace, just like the rose
had done. I also learned that to grow as a person also meant to
learn, and to not kick myself when I was down. Part of my
insecurities were about constantly feeling like I was failing;
failing my family, my friends, myself. It was a cycle of
disappointment in myself. Later on, after many years of making
mistakes, I eventually learned from them. And learning from
them showed me the value of growing from your mistakes. As the
saying goes, you live and you learn. In Maya Angelou’s poem
Still I Rise, she says “You may shoot me with your words, You
may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your
hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise”. Just like Maya Angelou, I
will always rise after I fall. I will always dust myself off and
move on, as the only option is to grow from a situation. Bad
things will always happen, and I will always have to deal with
failures and insecurities, but I cannot keep those things from letting me grow and move on. As Charlotte
Bronte said, “Sometimes there are clouds of gloom, But these are transient all; If the shower will make
the roses bloom, O why lament its fall?”. Why should I be sorry for the things I cannot control? At the
end of the day, every situation will also bring something positive, which will allow me to grow as a
human being. As Bronte says, from rain, flowers will always bloom.